


Rainy Day

by baku_midnight



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Anal Sex, Divorce, Established Relationship, Hotel Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: Bill and Mike spend some time together in a hotel room on a miserably rainy day.





	Rainy Day

**Author's Note:**

> me, checking over my own writing: not bad, pretty sure I could fit in more references to dicks

On the bottom floor of this meagre, two-storey affair, they could hear the rain pounding the parking lot, which drowned out the sound of distant traffic and the occasional orientating shout. It was nothing like the rain on the West Coast, like when he and a certain detached someone had gone to Oregon and it had rained for the entire 72-hours between their flight in and their flight out. Or the storm that followed them out of Derry—but that wasn’t worth remembering. Nope, nothing beat Pacific Northwest rain. But the east was currently giving it a run for its money.

Luckily, they were inside, and planned to stay that way for the foreseeable future.

Bill tugged the motel window open after a second of struggle, hearing the satisfying crack of the seal as a rush of cold air came in. He pulled until the portal was split nearly to the limits of its frame, breathing in the wet, rainy scent of the pavement outside. The stuffy atmosphere of the motel room benefitted greatly from the fresh air. He walked the two or three strides back to bed and tucked in again, pulling the covers up to his chin.

He frowned as a body wriggled behind him, pressed close on the deceptively narrow double mattress. Mike’s presence was a blessing in this exhausting period of his career, trying to get through a grueling edit while finalizing his divorce—but at the current moment, his squirming was unwelcome. Bill groaned in annoyance as Mike settled, placing a hand on Bill’s hip on top of the covers, the weight warm and steady. Bill’s frown dissipated.

It felt awfully strange, sneaking around like they were, but Bill’s lawyer had warned him not to start seeing anyone until his divorce was absolutely finalized, or—and he said this with a look borne of wizened experience that simply mortified Bill—to not _let anyone know _that he was seeing anyone before the divorce was finalized. Audra and he had officially separated two months prior, but their marriage would not be completely dissolved for another few months. Bill had asked how much money he needed to throw at the problem to make the process faster, but his lawyer had sternly reminded him that it didn’t work that way and he would need to be_ patient_. Bill was not good at _patient_.

It wasn’t so much the waning significance of his marriage that made Bill anxious to see the other shoe drop—he trusted Audra, and didn’t expect to be double-crossed during their remaining arbitrations—but the fact that he couldn’t give Mike somewhere warm to come home to. He thought about Mike alone in that tower, his furniture obscured by writings and clues, no inch of it comfortable save maybe the floor, when anxious searching and desperate pleading with fate finally caught up to him and he collapsed upon the dusty rug, prone, looking to the unyielding ceiling for answers... This stuffy motel, small, impersonal, and clean but scented with disinfectant and old water, only served to remind Bill of Mike trapped in that meagre lodging. There was nothing Bill wanted to do more than wrap Mike up in a blanket and tell him, finally, that _he didn’t have to stay_, for once, but he certainly didn’t have to _leave_, either.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Mike said close to his ear, and it took Bill a sleepy second of concentration to understand that he meant the open window on the ground floor of a cheap motel facing the parking lot in an oft-overlooked part of town. It was the only place Bill could find on short notice, even as he’d rushed to make arrangements almost the second that he’d received the text informing him that Mike would be in town.

“It’s fine,” Bill mumbled, eyes closed, “if someone tries to get in, I’ll protect you.”

Mike chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice steadying. He started to shuffle out of bed and Bill reached behind him, grabbing Mike’s wrist.

“Alright, alright,” Bill groaned, swinging his feet out from under the covers again. He stomped across the carpet, reached the window and pulled it shut until it yielded only a few inches of the outdoors. Then, he snapped the sliding lock into place on the sill.

“There,” he announced, “now, if someone tries to break in, they’ll have this tiny piece of plastic to contend with.” He pressed his face into the crack at the window, smelling the clouds near his skin.

Mike chuckled again. “I was thinking more someone _seeing _in,” he explained, “someone with a camera? Catching renowned horror writer Bill Denbrough…with his feet up over his head…”

Bill smiled, pushing his tongue into his bottom lip. His heart did an enthusiastic flip. “Come on, now, Mikey, don’t make promises you can’t kee—oh!”

Bill yelped, voice cracking as Mike scooped him up with one hand under his knees and the other around his back, drawing him high enough up on his chest that Bill could no longer sense the ground anywhere below. He wrapped an arm around Mike’s shoulders and gave him a mock-disappointed look.

“I get it,” Bill hmphed, “you’re strong.”

“Do you _really _get it? Or do I have to show you?” Mike teased, and lowered Bill to the bed. He leaned over, all long limbs and thick arms, to kiss Bill on the forehead, then cheek, then jaw. Bill reached up to Mike’s head, running his fingertips across the place on the back of his neck where his hair thinned into a trail of soft curls. He was still impressed by how big Mike really was—height was one thing, and impressive in itself, but Bill realized now that he couldn’t get his hands around Mike’s neck if he strained his fingers for all they were worth. The same story held for Mike’s biceps and forearms, and it quite frankly made Bill swoon.

Their kisses grew deeper, darker in colour—magenta, if Bill had to put a name to it—and he felt his heart begin to race and his stomach clench as a soft tongue skirted along the edge of his bottom lip. He chased the tongue, lifting to wrap his arms around Mike’s neck, turning into his mouth, surging forward to place his tongue between straight teeth. Mike, half-seated on the edge of the mattress, took Bill’s hips in two massive palms and lifted them, sliding his fingers behind and slipping them beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“_Mmm_wait,” Bill whispered, and Mike paused immediately, looking down at him with wide eyes already painted with lust. “Just wait, I gotta—” Bill bounded out of bed, though leaving the feverish heat of Mike’s arms was nearly painful, and skipped to the bathroom.

They’d been in such a hurry to get to bed last night, after arriving at the front desk at 2am—Bill had droned his words out tiredly, communicating his reservation to the clerk with all the expressive power of a well-trained sea lion—that Bill hadn’t so much as brushed his teeth. Mike tasted like mint and smelled like stormy weather, whereas Bill was convinced that he probably tasted more of roadkill and smelled like stale carpet, so he quickly dragged out his toiletry bag and went to work.

Sudsy toothbrush hanging half-out of his mouth, Bill reached for the other things he’d brought, hastily reading the instructions on the enema before tearing it open. If he looked and sounded too eager, Bill frankly didn’t _care_; he hadn’t had good sex in, well, a decently long time. The bathroom door remained open as Bill cleaned himself in and out—he wasn’t exactly feeling modest and was too old to be shy. After a two-minute shower to get all of the danger spots, Bill leapt out of the bathroom again, padding over to the bed with only a towel draped over his shoulders.

Mike was reclined on the bed dressed only in his briefs, resting on his elbows and the pile of too-hard pillows at one end of the mattress, his feet dangling off of the other. He was watching Bill with a soft smile.

“Ready,” Bill proclaimed, and climbed up on top of him.

His legs had to part almost further than was comfortable just to kneel on the outside of Mike’s waist, which would be terrifying if it weren’t so thrilling. Bill felt his belly heat up as he leaned over, resting his hands on Mike’s shoulders and kissing him, turning his chin and playing with Mike’s bottom lip, enjoying the scratch of a relaxed few-day’s growth against his cheeks. If, one day, Mike showed up with a beard, looking even more like Hercules than usual, Bill figured he might faint on the spot. He planted his hips against Mike’s belly, feeling his shaft lengthen as it sat in the groove between Mike’s abs. Smooth, soft fingertips trickled down his abdomen like water droplets and Bill clenched, sliding his hips forward.

“F-fuck,” Bill whispered as Mike’s hand dropped to his shaft and gently grasped it, tugging it to attention, “Mm-Mikey…”

Bill bucked back when Mike’s thumb brushed his frenulum, finding a the bump of Mike’s bulge pressing at him from behind. He swooned, eyes lolling back as a big hand continued to stroke his cock, and a second landed on his thigh, the width of pale skin nearly covered by a broad palm.

“You wanna stay on top?” Mike whispered, planting a kiss on the corner of Bill’s mouth.

Bill shook his head, unable to get a word to pass his lips. He rested his hands on Mike’s pecs, leaning forward. He didn’t think he could keep sturdy enough for the coordination riding on top required, and besides, Mike had put in his head a_ different_ image.

“Come here,” Mike murmured, wrapping both arms around Bill’s body and hugging him close. Deftly he turned them around, putting Bill beneath him and placing one pillow behind his head, and another—and Bill nearly passed out right then—beneath his hips.

Bill looked down between his legs to see Mike there, kneeling and gripping at his hardness through his briefs. Almost dazedly Bill reached down, groping for the shaft himself. _Big. _Stupidly big. It only made sense that Mike was proportional, but this didn’t even seem_ fair_. Bill felt a distinct decline in his brain’s computing power as he groped languidly at the thick shape, watching as Mike untucked the head from the elastic of his white briefs, letting it greet the air with a slow sway. Bill licked his fingers and reached for the crown, hearing Mike’s gasp above him, teeth sinking into a plump red lip.

“I want… I want it,” Bill whispered, and Mike blew out a steadying breath, shifting away from Bill’s hand to slip his briefs down his legs. It seemed to take forever for the garment to travel all the way down to his feet, and Bill impatiently pulled Mike down for another few kisses as soon as he was naked. He lifted his knees, placing his heels behind Mike’s ass on the mattress, kicking the duvet the rest of the way off of the edge. Seconds ago he was happy to be bundled up against the cool autumn air, but now he was so hot, his skin felt incandescent.

If Bill was glowing with heat, Mike was practically _molten_—he slid up behind Bill’s thighs, pushing them up, apart, arranging them just-so, all the while his smooth skin was practically searing where it touched. Bill threw a hand over his eyes as Mike squirted lube into his fingers, not because it was embarrassing, but because if he watched another second of those big hands/arms/legs/knees moving against the unassuming motel sheets, he might not last long enough to enjoy what the morning offered.

A finger pressed inside him and Bill arched his back, his chest rising, arms stretching out to the edges of the meagre double. He pulled up handfuls of sheets as the finger sunk inside, driving past his resistance and into the vulnerable depths of him. _Breathe_. Breathing was key, Bill thought, as he heard Mike join him in sighing out, _slow, low,_ blowing through pursed lips.

A second finger joined the first and Bill _mmm_ed in a sharp tone, flinching. Mike immediately paused, drawing his hand away.

“No, no, _ss_sokay,” Bill hissed, reaching down to place an anchoring fist on Mike’s thigh. Mike was so lovely: calm, cool while still steaming hot, his face flashing with concern and wide-eyed regard. Bill sighed and reached up to stroke a thumb across Mike’s cheek. “Keep going, Mikey.”

Tears encroached on the corners of Bill’s vision when a third finger found its way inside him, but not from pain so much as overwhelming present…ness. He hadn’t felt this _real_, this connected to his own body, his own _heart,_ for a long, long time. It was as though throughout his adult years he was as a vessel, talking, eating, sleeping, moving, working, detached from himself. But now he was being drawn back, built up whole again.

Mike’s palm stroked up and down his thigh, soothing the tension from his chest. The fingers withdrew and Bill let out a breath he’d promised himself not to hold, squeezing the pillow with a tight grip. Mike patted his fingers, smoothed them loose. Then, there was the hazy sound of more lube, a husky, deep-drawn breath, a creak of mattress, and then Bill _gasping_.

The pressure inside him was nothing like the fingers; it was hotter, bolder, and, god, _big_. Bill moaned, tightening his chest as his insides clenched around the first startling inch of Mike’s cock, trying to relax. Breathe. He blew out a few coiled streams of air and Mike slid in deeper, holding Bill’s perineum with one thumb while guiding himself in with the other.

“F-fuck,” Bill yelped, tipping back his head in a mix of fear/pain/ecstasy. He felt like he was being stripped to the bone, pulled to his limits. He pulled his knees wider to attempt to fit Mike inside.

“Is it too much?” Mike asked, and Bill shook his head.

“No, it’s alr-rh…alr-right,” Bill stammered, cursing his twitching tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“_That_ sounds like it’s too much,” Mike insisted, and started to pull away. He slipped free and Bill’s body clenched in his absence, his hole gripping loosely at air. The feeling was _more_ uncomfortable, and Bill reached out for Mike’s knees to keep him close.

“It’s f-f-fine, I said,” Bill hissed, and Mike raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” Mike uttered, and Bill shook his head.

“This,” Bill gestured at his mouth, his lazy tongue, his insistent stutter, a reminder of a lingering frailty that he could not escape, “this doesn’t s-s-speak for me. I do.”

Mike nodded, reaching out to touch Bill’s face. He stroked his palm around the side, cupping his cheek, smoothing back sweaty, greying strands of hair. Bill had once been terrified of his stutter, as it made him wonder if he would ever grow, ever be a_ full_ person, if he would ever move further than the clumsy, guilty preteen he once was—now, it merely annoyed him. It made him appear frail when he’d never felt stronger, never felt safer, warmer, or more _complete_ than he was now, in Mike’s arms.

“Here,” Mike said, and then there was a pressure, a stretch, and he was inside Bill again. Bill groaned, tucking his chin into his shoulder, breathing through his teeth. He struggled to relax as another inch slipped into him, pulling his muscles to their limits. He gasped and rolled his hips down, giving a choked-out sob as Mike stilled, settled inside him.

“Jesus,” Bill hissed, reaching down and feeling where they were connected, his anus stretched to its limits around a thick shaft. His muscles strained to hold Mike inside, clenching shakily at him, as if unsure.

“You want me to move?” Mike asked, and Bill could only reply,

“Please.”

Mike withdrew a couple of agonizing inches and then dove in again, deep, so deep, Bill felt his body convulse with it. Thrusting in with slow, measured strokes, Mike let out a breath, cheeks hollowing slightly, lips pursed. Bill watched with fascination, licentious smile spreading his red lips, until the solid, _massive _jab of the cock inside him _stunned_ him, made his head loll back, chin to the ceiling.

“Oh fuck, _fuck,_ Mikey,” Bill whispered.

“Is it good?” Mike asked, though how he couldn’t _tell_ Bill wasn’t sure, because Bill was practically paralyzed with pleasure.

“_So_ good,” Bill answered, clutching at Mike’s rear and pulling him closer, feeling the muscles of his glutes soften and contract with each slow thrust. Bill giggled—honest-to-God_ giggled_, giddy with joy he hadn’t felt during sex since he was…in college, maybe, and he’d brought home a guy from a party because that was just the thing you did in college, just good old-fashioned fun, men loving men, and oh, oh _gosh _what was that spot Mike just hit?

“There, there, oh god _there_,” Bill exclaimed, bucking his hips in some sloppy attempt at unison, chasing the feeling of Mike hitting his prostate. Each subsequent thrust built up pleasure until it was like a fizzy drink ready to pop; Bill’s mind searched for the right image, the right words _God_ wasn’t he supposed to be a writer?

Mike chuckled and held Bill’s hips still, keeping him steady to be pounded to oblivion. Mike increased his strength in time with Bill’s urgency, Bill sliding his hands up and down Mike’s back to find purchase, discovering every place just _thick_ and too stiff to grip, _how_ was he this fit, this well-trimmed, like marble, holy_ shit_. Bill gasped, pain/pleasure surging between his legs and sending echoes up his back like someone was playing music on his spine. God, what the fuck was happening with his similes today?

Bill clenched, his hips jumping, thighs parting as he felt electricity building up at the sensitive spot inside him, shocking him like lightning. He felt a hand rubbing his forgotten dick, nudging it to pleasure and looked down to see his member practically hidden by Mike’s large hand as he brought him to aching, spitting hardness near instantly.

“Bill,” Mike said calmly, and when Bill responded only with an ecstatic toss of his head, held his dick firmly and repeated, “_Bill._”

“What? What, Mikey?” Bill gasped out, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. His brow was dripping sweat, he knew, and his cheeks, if not entire face and all the way down to his _nipples_ was likely stained bright red—damn his Scottish complexion—and he felt hot. Not just hot in temperature, or in striking, molten pleasure, but in the way that young people felt when they were _desired_. Mike was looking at him with eyes utterly black with craving, and his entire body was taut, from his tightened abdominals, his raised shoulders, and to his _thick_ member buried inside Bill’s body.

“Are you ready now?” Mike murmured, voice dropping to a lower octave.

“Ready for w-w-what?” Bill panted, and then felt it. Mike feeding more of his cock inside, inch by brutal inch.

“Th-there’s more?!” Bill sobbed, arching, throwing his head back. He lifted his thighs, nearly crying as another inch sunk inside him, then another, until finally, mercifully it stopped, when Bill was certain he could feel the tip pressing on the top of his _mouth_.

Bill gasped and gulped as Mike took hold of his legs, and planted one pale ankle on each of his shoulders, so Bill was bent entirely in half, his feet up in the air. He felt the tickle of wiry hair on the backs of his thighs and knew that Mike was fully sheathed inside him, from root to tip. Deliriously, Bill touched his belly, wondering if he couldn’t feel the tip poking through the skin.

“Wow, _wow,_” was all Bill could get out, hands shaking as he reached for the sheets again. “Mmm—Mikey!”

He grappled with the sheets, knowing the weak fibres were practically tearing between his fingers as he bore a deep-reaching thrust, followed by another, and then Mike was moving rhythmically into him, Bill’s muscles relaxing to reaccept his massive shaft each time like it was the first. Mike reached for his hands and untangled them from the flimsy sheets, unfolding the clenched fingers and placing them on his own waist instead.

“Hold onto me, not the bed,” Mike whispered, pumping his hips in regular, pulsing strokes, the box-spring bouncing a little to contend with the heaviness of two, full-grown men—one more grown than the other, Bill conceded, eyes rolling. Bill looked down and immediately had to hide his face in the pillow again, the sight of his body accepting a big, dark-red cock as it slid in and out, in and out too vivid to handle.

Bill realized then that he had no recourse, no way to escape: there was_ no_ _possible way_ he could physically hold Mike back, the difference in their sizes was too great. He’d never felt a particularly small person, but with Mike between his legs, he was helpless. And he _loved_ it.

Pleasure spiked and Bill fought, arching his back and trying to pull his knees together with the shock of it. A burst of pleasure echoed inside, a shock of static electricity travelling along his skin, and he knew he’d come, just with his prostate and the delirious knowledge of Mike being inside his belly.

“Are you close?” he asked, and Mike nodded, and as if he had been waiting for permission, started to thrust faster. His breath was husky, euphoric, and his hips jumped, lifting higher. Bill sighed, reaching for his own hardness and trying to time a second orgasm with Mike’s, stroking himself faster when he felt Mike’s thrusts come faster, slowing and pulling languidly when Mike bottomed out in him.

Suddenly, Mike pulled away and Bill gasped, then Mike was whispering, “here, here,” and lowering Bill’s legs to fit around his abdomen. He stuffed himself all the way in again and Bill realized that they could be closer this way, as Mike braced himself on his elbows to lean down and kiss Bill, gentle but lusty, his tongue diving between Bill’s teeth, tasting his molars, making his chin sloppy with spit. Bill felt Mike on the tender insides of his thighs, his legs forced to splay open around Mike’s waist.

“Oh God, Christ, **_fuck_**,” Bill swore, spurting over his hand, pumping his wrist until he was oversensitive and jerking his legs together instinctively, but there was no give, his legs separated by Mike’s waist; he was forced to take cock on every push, his knees going limp. Mike was near him, around him,_ in_ him, mouthing at his neck, his chin, the leaping apple of his throat. Then, suddenly, Mike wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into an embrace, one long arm around his waist and the second his shoulders, holding his head in one big palm and then he came, letting out a groan and a breath he’d been holding.

Mike pumped a few more times as relief washed over the both of them, Bill’s come drawing sticky lines between their bellies when they separated, Bill practically collapsing, exhausted onto the pillow. Mike sat up on his knees. It seemed to take an eternity for him to pull out, inch by inch; Bill was able to relish the length of him one last time before he slid out with a _pop_.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Mike whispered, “I meant to pull out. But you…you’re…”

Bill felt liquid trickling down his ass, his flexing hole unable to contain it. He reached and ran his fingers through the mess.

“Are you kidding me? Mikey, that was _amazing_,” Bill breathed, “_and_ you _came_ in me.” He stared in awe at Mike’s sheepish smile, the statuesque man looking suddenly like a shy teen again and Bill couldn’t help return the grin twofold.

Bill lay back, limbs limp, panting and sweaty, and briefly entertained the thought of a shower before just about passing out right then. Just before consciousness faded, however, he felt the mattress sink and pop back up, and then two arms underneath him, scooping him up. Mike mopped them both up with the slightly-damp towel from Bill’s shower—had that really happened today? It felt so long ago—and then tossed the soiled pillow aside, it hitting the window with a soft thud.

“You looked so gorgeous,” Mike whispered, when they were lying side-by-side, the duvet replaced and resting over their knees, “your chest all flushed, taking all of me.”

Bill felt his belly stir with renewed desire and groaned. He put his hand over his face. “Don’t do that to me, Mikey. You’re making me wanna go again, but my body’s telling me to go fuck myself.”

“Let me do that from now on,” Mike teased, and Bill groaned again.

The rain continued to thud in the parking lot outside, making big, wide puddles that would be hell to traverse. They might have to stay in all day.


End file.
